CHRISTIANE F. / Christiane F. – Wir Kinder vom Bahnhof Zoo
(Uli Edel, Germany, 1981, 131 minutes)
"I felt so much, that I started to feel nothing."--Christiane F.
"This is one of the most horrifying films I have ever seen."--Roger Ebert
Though German filmmaker Uli Edel's directorial debut, Christiane F., an adaptation of We Children from Bahnhof Zoo, a 1978 memoir ghostwritten by journalists Kai Hermann and Horst Rieck, takes place in pre-unification Berlin, it opens much like Martin Scorsese's New York-set Taxi Driver.
Instead of "garbage," "trash," "scum," and worse, 13-year-old Christiane (fully committed newcomer Natja Brunckhorst, who wasn't much older) rails, in voiceover, against the "piss and shit everywhere."
Travis Bickle was talking about pre-Disneyfied Times Square, whereas Christiane is talking about the Brutalist Gropiusstadt apartment block, named after Bauhaus architect Walter Gropius, where she lives with her recently-divorced mother, sister, and a cat in 1977. Gropiusstadt recalls nothing so much as the haunted Cabrini-Green housing complex of Bernard Rose's Candyman.
Understandably, Christiane would prefer to be anywhere else, and she doesn't see school as a viable alternative. Her sister shares the sentiment to the extent that she goes to live with their father shortly after the film begins, leaving Christiane all alone, since their mom (East German actress Christiane Lechle) spends most of her time at work or with her new boyfriend, Klaus (Uwe Diderich). Though Edel never blames the mother for Christiane's downward spiral, the virtual absence of any parental figures--her biological father never makes a single appearance--doesn't help.
Christiane looks to Sound, a discotheque catering to teenagers, as the solution to her problem. Once she's out of her mother's sight, she applies sky blue eyeshadow and blood red lipstick and exchanges her sneakers for high heels. She doesn't look 18, but she does look older than 13, and the doorman appears to be pretty lax. From Zoo Station–the same station U2 references on 1991's Achtung Baby–she's ready to roll into the club with her more mature friend Kessi (Daniela Jaeger), not so much to dance, though she's a big Bowie fan, but to hang out and meet other young people.
After rejecting an offer to get high, she and Kessi settle into a screening room to watch Night of the Living Dead as a particularly persistent young man tries to feel Christiane up. While she fends him off and Kessi makes out with another guy, a pale, zombified Karen Cooper (nine-year-old Kyra Schon), in George Romero's film, terrorizes--and devours--her parents.
Christiane, who had been drinking cherry juice, changes her mind about a drug-free evening and takes a hit of LSD, presumably for the first time.
Moments later, she stumbles across a zombie-like junkie in a toilet stall, needle hanging from his arm. The combination of the acid and the half-dead human makes her physically ill.
Detlef (Thomas Haustein), a handsome young man who had been observing her, along with his friend Bernd (Jan Georg Effler), tells Christiane, "You shouldn’t have taken that pill." His tone isn't judgmental, so much as matter of fact.
That night, they go their separate ways, but a connection has been made.
Christiane starts telling her mom she's hanging out with Kessi whenever she goes to Sound, though it's mostly to see Detlef. Klaus, meanwhile, tries to win her favor by giving her a copy of Changes One Bowie. To her credit, she doesn't admit she already has it, and simply thanks him. It's one of the first Bowie appearances, though there will be many more, like the evening in which Christiane, Kessi, and their extended friend group go running, jumping, and tumbling past shuttered shops at night as Bowie's soaring "Heroes" scores their youthful hijinx. Though Bowie had originally given the production two songs for free, that number would grow to nine, leading to a soundtrack album featuring material from his four most recent records.
Unlike the girls, though, Detlef and Bernd don't live at home, but in a flat so trashed it's probably a squat, and the boys will do anything to get by. Edel eschews any backstory, but their home lives presumably became untenable.
When Detlef bashes a shop window to scoop money out of the register, Christiane is alarmed, but undeterred, even when cops give chase, leading to one of the film's lovelier moments as the kids end up hiding out in the neon blue glow of a Mercedes Benz sign atop a multi-story building (another lovely moment involves a comforting cuddle with a purring cat). If it wasn't already apparent, it will become soon: these are kids who will never own a luxury car. If anything, they'll be lucky to make it out of their teens alive.
Every time Christiane enters the station, which overtakes Sound as her hangout of choice, she clocks the junkies (a coalition of first-time actors and actual addicts who wandered into shots). They look terrible, and Edel does nothing to glamorize the scene, and yet anti-glamor exerts a seduction of its own, and when Christiane finds out that Detlef and Bernd shoot up, she wants in on that action.
Once again, Detlef warns her away. "Don't take that shit," he cautions, adding that he won't want to see her again if she does, though it's not like she's scared of needles. When she notices the tiny blue snake on his hand, she gives herself one, too, and since Edel was all about verisimilitude, Assistant Director Babette Kirchhoff served as the hand model and got the tattoo for real (the shooting up, on the other hand, was faked).
When Christiane finds out about an upcoming Bowie concert, she asks her mom for tickets for her birthday, and she comes through. She gets a nice cake, too. So far, Edel has given little indication that poor parenting is pushing her toward the streets, though the real-life Christiane came from an abusive home. Nonetheless, the more time Christiane spends with Detlef, the less she spends at home to the extent that her mom will eventually disappear from the film. Though it serves the narrative, there was a more practical reason for her departure: Edel didn't seek permission to film inside the station, whose interior was under communist control, so when word got out, Christiane Lechle was no longer allowed to work on the film. Kessi also disappears when her mom decides Christiane is a "bad influence."
While hanging around the station, Christiane befriends other girls, like the bubbly Babette, aka Babsi (Christiane Reichelt), who stays at her flat when her mom isn't around. Babsi is otherwise homeless, and Christiane gets another rude awakening when she finds out how all these boys and girls make money: sex work, though Detlef insists that "I only jerk them off."
Though Bowie was keen to participate in the film, he had relocated to the States to star in The Elephant Man on Broadway, so he couldn't film a concert in Germany. Instead, Edel arranged to film in New York, which he did, but it almost didn't happen after Bowie's friend and "Fame" duet partner John Lennon was shot and killed on December 8, 1980. Bowie managed to collect himself in time to perform "Station to Station" with a band featuring guitarists Carlos Alomar and G.E. Smith as Christiane gazes up at him with stars in her eyes. Edel filmed everything else in West Berlin, including a sequence featuring greasy bikers. If they seem out of place at a Bowie show, that's because Edel spliced in footage from an AC/DC concert.
When Christiane comes into a little cash, she gives it to Detlef and Bernd, so they can get high. She would like to join them, but once again, Detlef warns, "You'll be a corpse, too." She won't take no for an answer, so she gets into their car where she snorts instead of injects the heroin. It makes her throw up and nod off and soon the car appears to move of its own accord through a winding tunnel as Bowie's "TVC 15" scores her disorientation. The next time Detlef sees her, he asks, "Are you crazy?" Christiane: "I wanted to know how you feel."
She isn’t wrong, though, in thinking it will bring them closer together. Before, Detlef was playing the field, but after the trip, they become inseparable in the worst of ways. Even so, he never pressures her to try heroin in any form, and nor does he pressure her for sex. She instigates all of these things. As dark as Christiane F. gets, it could have been worse.
For the purposes of this piece, I revisited Edel's 1989 adaptation of Hubert Selby Jr's Last Exit to Brooklyn, which he also filmed on location--Brooklyn rather than Berlin--and the fate of Jennifer Jason Leigh's Tralala is just as harrowing as I remember. Like Christiane, she's still alive at the end of the picture, but it's hard to imagine she has much of a future ahead of her.
Christiane, meanwhile, does what she can to forestall hers. When Detlef dissuades her, yet again, from shooting up, she borrows another junkie's kit and does the damn thing. Sharing a dirty needle is a fantastic way to meet the Reaper, but instead, she just nods off in a disgusting toilet stall. "This is fucked up, what you're doing," Detlef scolds, while doing the same thing.
As Christiane sinks deeper into addiction, she dyes her hair red and ditches the makeup, but they're minor details compared to the pallor that takes over her face and the shadows that materialize under her eyes. She also appears to grow thinner, though Edel explains, in the 2026 interview included with the new Criterion Collection edition, that that was due to sleight of hand, i.e. the removal of a padded bra, since Brunckhorst was already quite thin. Christiane's final form: a walking dead girl, just as Detlef had predicted.
The degradation continues as Christiane turns to sex work and their friends start to die. She and Detlef make noises about quitting. "Someday we'll find a way to stop," she muses before shooting up at home and temporarily losing the ability to walk or talk, at which point her mom reappears, but instead of getting her professional help, she and Klaus locate Detlef, so the two kids can kick together, which they do after hours and hours of sweating, shivering, and puking before relapsing almost immediately afterward.
"We can allow ourselves one fix," Christiane reasons, except one leads to another, and the sex work becomes more degrading, since hand stuff no longer pay the bills. Christiane even resorts to selling her albums for 17 marks ($63.07 in today's USD). Things get so bad that death seems like the only possible outcome, except that isn't what happens.
Unlike Beatrice Sparks' 1971 bestseller Go Ask Alice, the purported memoir of a teenage addict and the resulting ABC Movie of the Week, in which the protagonist succumbs to an overdose, Christiane eventually gets clean, though Edel leaves that part off the screen. The real-life Christiane Felscherinow, however, did not. Possibly due to the age difference, Edel actually invited her, rather than Brunckhorst, to join him for the film's US promotional tour, but she had to leave the country after a heroine bust.
Now 64, Felscherinow was 17 when Hermann and Rieck published their book, compiled from two years of recorded conversations for a series of articles in German newsweekly Stern. It became a sensation, and the film seemed set to follow suit, but critics didn't embrace it as enthusiastically, not even with the involvement of honorary Berliner Bowie, who had so admired the book. In his Criterion interview, Edel claims that the "reviews were devastating." What he doesn't mention is that it made a lot of money.
In America, though, the film met with a somewhat warmer reception, even in a poorly-dubbed version, to the extent that it’s now been restored, re-released, and given the deluxe home video treatment. It's even inspired superfans, like Anora director Sean Baker, who have made collecting Christiane F. promo material a lifelong pursuit. Baker appears in a new Criterion appreciation to wax poetic about the film and his 3,000 posters.
In a special feature from 2022, Brunckhorst recalls her life during and after the production. Though her character goes through hell and back, she insists she had a great time making the film, not least because she was surrounded by an attentive crew and other young people who had never acted before, all of whom acquit themselves nicely. It was such a positive experience that she would pursue a movie career, and she made her next appearance, the following year, in Rainer Werner Fassbinder's final feature,Querelle.
In the 1990s, Brunckhorst would segue from acting to writing and in the 2000s, directing. Her latest feature, Two to One starring Sandra Hüller, was a hit in Germany. Her Christiane F. co-star, Thomas Haustein, however, was so affected by the film's subject matter that he became a drug counselor, though his Instagram suggests he also holds fond memories of the film.
As for Felscherinow, she became an actress, musician, mother, Einstürzende Neubauten associate, and in 2013, she even released a memoir cowritten with Sonja Vuković, Mein Zweites Leben, aka My Second Life, but she has continued to struggle with addiction and the physical effects of long-term substance use. Though she predicted, in her book, that she wouldn't live much longer, she beat the odds, but has since retreated from public life.
In his adaptation of the original book, Uli Edel splits the difference between cinéma vérité and horror. In drawing from a work of reportage that became a cause célèbre, he was simultaneously calling attention to a phenomenon with implications beyond the borders of Berlin, while also capitalizing on it.
Whether or not Christiane F. works as a cautionary tale is another story, but that doesn't seem to have been his primary objective, not least since there will always be young people who will watch a film like this and see it more as a challenge or even a dare. Just like Christiane F., they'll convince themselves, "I can't get hooked if I just use a little...only once in a while."
Christiane F. is out now on the Criterion Collection in a new 4K digital restoration on Blu-ray and 4K+Blu-ray two-disc set with all the extras mentioned above plus two screen tests and a richly-contextual essay from Hester Baer. Images from the IMDb (Natja Brunckhorst and Daniela Jaeger, kids bathed in blue, and Jennifer Jason Leigh in Last Exit to Brooklyn), Goodreads (Christiane F. book cover), Morgue Movie Wiki (Kyra Schon in Night of the Living Dead), and filmfriend (Christiane Felscherinow).
One of the greatest gifts a son or daughter can give a parent is to finish the work they started before their passing. It's what most of us would hope for, but not all of us have children.
When Russian filmmaker Aleksei German died before completing post-production on 2013's Hard to Be a God, Aleksei German, Jr. stepped in to finish his work, resulting in one of German's most influential films. I can't imagine Robert Eggers' The Lighthouse without its aesthetic inspiration.
More recently, David Greaves reached back further in time to finish the documentary, Once Upon a Time in Harlem, his father William Greaves shot at Duke Ellington's home in 1972. The 2026 release would also result in one of the Symbiopsychotaxiplasm director's most acclaimed films, playing major film festivals throughout the year (it's currently playing Portland's Cinema 21 and comes to Olympia's Capitol Theater in November).
Similarly, Eleanor Coppola, co-director of 1991's Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker's Apocalypse, was working on editing material she shot on the set of Marie Antoinette in 2005 when she died in 2024. The documentary, completed by her daughter Sofia and editor Aaron Matthews, has also played major film festivals since its premiere at Telluride in September. It's been such a hot ticket, in fact, that I couldn't get into either of the sold-out screenings for which I waited in line at this year's London Film Festival.
As with most things Coppola, though, the situation is more complicated or at least more self-referential than it appears, because 2026 also marks the 20th anniversary of Sofia's sumptuous, anachronistic portrait of the infamous French queen, which Sony and Francis Ford Coppola's American Zoetrope re-released starting on October 23, to be followed by a Criterion Collection edition on November 10.
Though Eleanor started working with Francis as an assistant art director in 1962 before marrying him the following year, she didn't forge her own career as a documentarian until nearly 30 years later, and after raising three kids, but she was overshadowed first by her husband and then by her daughter. She took great pride in their work, but as Making Marie Antoinette proves, there was some jealousy and regret, too.
In 2026, her final documentary could be seen as an elaborate promotional video for her daughter's most expensive film--$67mil in today's dollars--but that would leave her overshadowed yet again. Fortunately, it's more than that and yet, at the same time, it's exactly that, only in the best of ways.
Starting with Hearts of Darkness, made with Fax Bahr and George Hickenlooper, Eleanor has documented her family's work several times over, since she's also made films about Sofia and Roman's directorial debuts, The Virgin Suicides and CQ, in addition to Francis's underrated John Grisham adaptation, The Rainmaker.
Except for the first, these films aren't easy to find and were probably intended primarily for promotional purposes.
Right: Eleanor on the set of Apocalypse Now
It's possible that Eleanor spent 57 days in Versailles shooting 80 hours of footage for the same reason, but the end result transcends that description. And if two months in France sounds like a lot, it's nothing compared to the 238 turbulent days she spent with Francis and the kids in the Philippines while he was making 1979's brilliant, if disaster-plagued Apocalypse Now.
It was during Covid-19 lockdown in 2020 that Eleanor and Sofia decided to assemble her material into a documentary feature, so it was always going to be a mother-daughter project.
I'm not certain whether Eleanor intended to provide the voiceover, as she did with Hearts of Darkness, but Sofia's masterstroke--which was also a total Coppola move--was to reach out to Eleanor's friend Diane Lane, who starred in four of Francis's films, to read passages from her journals. The choice couldn't be more perfect, since Lane, who is practically an extended family member, sounds a lot like her.
Through the actress's readings, Eleanor's perspective remains front and center, even as she speaks with Sofia, Kirsten Dunst (Marie Antoinette), Marianne Faithfull (Empress Maria Theresa), Sofia's cousin Jason Schwartzman (Louis XVI), and other participants. As Sofia, who is nine years his senior, quips about Jason, "I pushed him in a stroller when he was two."
As her mother explains, "I just let my camera roll in the areas that interested me." Eleanor, who turned 69 in 2005, admits that she found the camera work daunting, but it was clearly of vital importance to a woman who often felt her "creative self pushed to the last place on my to-do list," adding, "I was surprised at the passion I felt for my camera."
Even those who haven't seen Marie Antoinette are likely to find it fascinating to see how Sofia put the film together, from the towering wigs to the New Romantic makeup to Oscar winner Milena Canonero's stunning outfits, including 72 dresses for the Queen, to the enticing food (all real) to the gorgeous flowers (also real).
No expense was spared, and yet Sofia aimed to finish on time and on budget, and she did, even as some things went wrong, like illness on set and an outdoor sequence complicated by heavy rain.
That said, Eleanor also honors Sofia's perspective. On set, her daughter appears "too small," and yet her mother admires the way she maintains her calm demeanor, even as more experienced collaborators, like cinematographer Lance Acord, who shot Lost in Translation, encourage her to incorporate a male perspective, a pretty significant misreading of the title. As Eleanor observes, "She has the belief in her vision to forge ahead."
Her family, for the most part, stays out of her way. Aside from Jason and Francis, the executive producer, other relatives on set include Roman, the second unit director, and Sofia's niece, Gia Coppola, who directed 2024's study of motherhood and aging The Last Showgirlwith Pamela Anderson.
Watching Sofia with Roman, Eleanor describes their relationship as "one of the most profound treasures in my life." Though Roman has worked on several of his sister's films, he's become best known, since 2007's The Darjeeling Limited, as Wes Anderson's closest collaborator.
At times Eleanor gets confessional in ways that don't directly involve the film as when she remembers Sofia rejecting her during her adolescence. There's something ironic about that as Sofia would go on to make several films involving teenagers, including Marie Antoinette, since the Austrian archduchess was only 15 when she married the French dauphin Louis-Auguste, and Sofia infuses the film with what she terms an "irreverent teenage quality" as the teen queen parties like a Beverly Hills club kid.
Long before the making of the film, Sofia stopped rejecting her mother. When she mentioned her while accepting the Best Original Screenplay Oscar for Lost in Translation in 2004, "Thanks to my mom for always encouraging us to try to make art," Eleanor recalls bursting into tears.
And what goes around comes around, since Sofia's 19-year-old daughter, singer/actress Romy Mars, put her mom on blast in a now-deleted 2023 TikTok video for discouraging her from using social media and grounding her after she tried to charter a helicopter from NYC to Maryland with her father's credit card.
There's a moment in Making Marie Antoinette when Sofia introduces her boyfriend, Thomas Mars, lead singer of the Versailles band Phoenix, to her mother (the quartet also appears in the film). Sofia had worked with him on the soundtrack to The Virgin Suicides, but this appears to have been Eleanor's first time, and it isn't a small thing: he and Sofia married six years later, and they're still married.
As advertised, Eleanor's documentary provides a thorough account of the making of her daughter's film, but it's also revealing about Sofia, Eleanor, and their relationship. The documentarian grew up in a different era, and felt that her career was largely, though not completely, over once she had three kids, but she envies the fact that Sofia wouldn't have to feel that way, and it doesn't seem like she ever has, since she's made nine features, including a recent profile of designer Marc Jacobs, all while raising Romy and Cosima.
If anything, Making Marie Antoinette has gotten far more attention this year than her own Marc by Sofia, which had a brief theatrical run before quietly landing on HBO Max, and I doubt Sofia has lost any sleep over it. In finishing work that she and her mother started, she seized the opportunity to let Eleanor claim the spotlight for once.
A self-described shy person, Eleanor states, "I am an observer at heart--the miniature world in my viewfinder is constantly fascinating to me." Though she had no interest in fame, she found nothing more glorious than spending a day "illuminating the stage in front of me." She spent 57 of those days on the set of Marie Antoinette, and the results are pretty glorious indeed.
Making Marie Antoinette and Marie Antoinette in a new 4K restoration play SIFF Film Center Nov 1 via Grand Illusion Cinema. Images: the IMDb (Sofia Coppola and Kirsten Dunst), Lionsgate / Elements of Madness (Eleanor Coppola), Mubi / Variety (Dunst with Jason Schwartzman), and Andrew Durham / Important Flowers / Vogue and Variety (Sofia and Eleanor).
"For a child, playing is a deeply serious matter. Children don’t need poetic dialogue or images; they are poetic in their very existence."--Fernando Eimbcke
Fernando Eimbcke certainly took his time following up Duck Season. His debut arrived in 2004, and here he is with the spiritual sequel 22 years later. Then again, he wrote the first draft of the screenplay 25 years ago. Not until he joined forces with novelist Vanesa Garnica was he able to get it right.
To prepare, I set out to rewatch his first film, also in black and white, but it isn't available to stream with English subtitles, and my Spanish comprehension isn't all it could be. I checked every possible streaming site, including foreign ones, and settled on Russia's Ok.ru, which offers an unsubtitled version (I later found another unsubtitled one on YouTube).
Fortunately, it isn't necessary to watch the earlier film to appreciate the latest, since they have little in common other than the setting and the black and white. Since Mubi picked up Flies after its Berlin Film Festival premiere, where it won the Ecumenical award, I hope they'll also pick up his debut.
Right: Duck Season, aka Temporada de Patos
Set in and around a brutalist Mexico City apartment complex located next to a hospital, his playful, visually inventive take on social realism begins with a buzzing fly waking up Olga (The Chambermaid's invaluable Teresita Sánchez). She does everything she can to shoo it toward an open window, but it just won't go.
Taciturn and slow-moving, Olga is a curmudgeon, but like most Eimbcke characters, she contains multitudes. When a couple in the unit above indulges in noisy sex while she's watching TV, she doesn't pound on the ceiling with a broomstick, but stops to listen before turning up the volume.
When she interacts with the world outside, however, she always has some kind of complaint. It doesn't help that she's been feeling poorly, so she visits a podiatrist about her foot pain, hoping for a quick fix, but the doctor tells Olga she needs nail surgery. Unfortunately, it costs 3,000 pesos she doesn't have, so she tacks up signs around the complex advertising a room for rent for family members of patients. The larger the party, the higher the charge.
A day laborer with a wife in the cancer ward spots one of Olga's signs and makes arrangements to rent the room. He has a few pesos to his name, but not a lot. Eimbcke and Garnica, who prioritize the present, provide no details about his background, other than to suggest that he's from a smaller town.
Tulio (sympathetic newcomer Hugo Ramírez) is polite and respectful, seemingly the perfect guest, while Olga is anything but the perfect host, sniffing, "I don't want to hear anything about your sick relative." There's another problem: Tulio has a nine-year-old son, Cristian (fellow newcomer Bastián Escobar, a wily, spirited presence who never seems to be acting), and he can't afford the landlady's rate for two guests, so he sneaks Cristian in to the duplex late at night and sneaks him out early in the morning.
Estela's health is so precarious that she can't have visitors, and children aren't allowed at all. At night, father and son gaze longingly at what they believe to be her hospital room window, waiting for her fortunes to improve.
Cristian is, for the most part, a happy-go-lucky kid, but he misses his mom just as much as his dad, and tries to communicate with her using the flashlight she gave him. He also writes "mommy" in the grime on the guest room window, something Olga notices when she starts to suspect that Tulio is hiding something.
Left to his own devices while his dad takes care of business, Cristian explores the neighborhood. A cop catches him peeing behind a tree, but the kid does a runner. He'll spend the rest of the film trying to evade an authority figure Eimbcke depicts from Cristian's low-to-the-ground child's-eye view, suggesting that the cop is some hulking, lumbering monster.
One of the defining features of Eimbcke's work is the way characters look through or are reflected in shiny surfaces. It isn't the same as breaking the fourth wall, since they're looking at something other than the camera in the context of the narrative. In Duck Season, they gaze into an oven and at a TV screen; in Flies, it's an arcade game screen and convenience store mirror.
Just as the teens in Duck Season play a football video game with great enthusiasm, Cristian is obsessed with the Space Invaders-like arcade game Cosmic Defenders. When it comes to his mom, he puts his faith in his dad, who pays her bills as best he can, and the medical team trying to help her get better.
He's just a kid, and there's nothing he can do, but when he plays the game, he's in control. As he vaporizes aliens, it's as if he were vaporizing the cancer cells invading Estela's body. The 2-bit game with its high-energy synth soundtrack serves as a sort of score, lending the film a 1980s feel, though Flies is set in the today of personal computers and cellphones.
With money running low, Tulio looks for work that will extend their time in the city, but when Olga spots the two eating lunch at a diner, she searches his suitcase and finds children's clothes, confirming her suspicion that Tulio has been hiding the kid from her.
The next time they meet, she confronts him. "I let you into my home and this is how you repay me," she barks before demanding more money and ordering them to leave in two days. If they don't, she threatens to call the police. Tulio agrees to her terms before taking a temporary job that will leave Cristian alone with the curmudgeon.
Before he leaves, Tulio sets Cristian up with a cellphone. The boy does his best to avoid Olga by befriending vendors and shop keepers with whom he makes trades, and all of whom treat him with kindness, even if he tries their patience with his rambunctiousness. When he finds five pesos on the ground, he goes to town on Cosmic Defenders, racking up a high score, and when he finds that he can play the game on his phone, he struggles to tear himself from it.
When he isn't playing the game, he tries to figure out how to sneak a pair of slippers, which he pronounces "sleepers," to his mom (the Spanish word is zapatilla or pantufla). He can't do it on his own, especially with that annoying cop buzzing around, so he devises a plan that leads him to Isaac (Duck Season's pizza delivery man Enrique Arreola), a kindly laundry worker with whom he also plays Cosmic Defenders. More importantly, Isaac offers to bring the slippers to Estela, while cautioning that it could get him fired.
Cristian next goes to work on the female security workers who decide which visitors can and cannot enter the hospital. Despite his formidable charm offensive, they refuse to let him in, since they could get fired, too, but they offer to find his mom, so he'll know exactly which room she's staying in.
Without saying a word, Olga watches the boy come and go, feigning disinterest as she plays online Sudoku, but he crosses a line when he makes a mess in the bedroom. She demands he clean it up, which is fair, but it doesn't scare him away. Though she insists he stay in the room when in her home, he sneaks out to watch TV after she falls asleep. She catches him in the act, and shoos him away, but not before he swipes a few pesos to play Cosmic Defenders.
Slowly, but surely, Olga starts to warm up to the kid. I saw it coming from a mile away, but that doesn't make the wearing down of her resistance any less satisfying as she starts to see the situation more clearly: Cristian needs help, and she has the means to provide it. She's also lonely as hell.
Soon, she's treating him to lunch and plotting how to get the slippers to his mom. They also find they have a few things in common, but I won't spoil the rather amusing surprise. All the while, Eimbcke also avoids specific details about her background, other than to suggest she might have had a son once, which helps to explain her resistance to such a likeable young man.
It isn’t until late in the proceedings that Olga finally cracks a smile. As an actress, Sánchez can look exceptionally dowdy and downcast, but she has the kind of smile that makes her entire countenance appear beatific. Olga even shares with Cristian her love of cha-cha-chá music, revealing the kind of person she might have been once before disappointment and delusionment took over.
Mostly, she does what she can to connect Cristian with his mom. As he faces the fact that she might not get better, Eimbcke turns to magical realism in a way that echoes Poltergeist and Videodrome, but in a much more dreamy, benevolent way. Suffice to say: Cosmic Defenders is involved. What might be just another arcade game in another film plays a thematic role here.
The indomitable fly returns at the end, and this time, Olga leaves it alone.
Of the films I saw at this year's London Film Festival, including two gala premieres, Flies was the most low-key. There was no hype, no lines filled with punters clamoring to get in, and no red carpets at Royal Festival Hall. It was also the funniest, most touching, and least ponderous. Granted, I was thrilled to see that Eimbcke had followed up Duck Season after all these years, even if the characters are different, but there were probably plenty of festivalgoers unfamiliar with it, not least since it's become so difficult to see in English.
A delight from start to finish, Flies ranks among my favorite Mexican films of the 21st-century–all set in a Mexico City that proves alternately foreboding and welcoming–along with Alejandro Gerber Bicecci's Dead Man's Switch and Alfonso Cuarón's Roma, both also shot in luminous black and white. In all three beautifully-acted features, working class people take center stage. If they don't necessarily triumph at the end, they’re neither broken nor bowed as their directors imbue them with the dignity and complexity they deserve.
And in Bastián Escobar’s Cristian, Eimbcke introduces a lovable scamp for the ages, just as Teresita Sánchez proves why she's one of Mexico's finest and most nimble performers. It's a worthy social realist successor to David Fortune's Color Book and even Vittorio De Sica's immortal Bicycle Thieves.
There are no more screenings of Flies at LFF, which ends tonight, and nor are any Seattle screenings scheduled, but it plays Portland's Latin American Film Festival, which begins today, on Nov 18. Considering that Fernando Eimbcke's fourth feature, Olmo (also cowritten with Vanesa Garnica), was released in the US in August, Flies probably won't see release until 2027. One way or the other, I'll update this post when I have more information.
Images from Variety (Hugo Ramirez and Bastián Escobar), IMDb (Daniel Miranda, Diego Cataño, Danny Perea, and Enrique Arreola), Moviepilot (Ramirez and Escobar), and IONCINEMA (Escobar and Teresita Sánchez).
I didn't arrive in London in time to cover the first screening of this horror-themed program--or programme, which looks classier--but it plays again on Oct 18, the last day of the festival. Lucy Luscombe's Meatmylk is the only film the LFF didn't include in their digital library, but I wrote about all others. Of the six films, the LFF has offered a content advisory for four regarding scenes of graphic violence or injury, nudity, and sex. Most horror fans wouldn't find any of these films too hard to handle, but the squeamish may want to take note. In alphabetical order.
ALL YOURS (Sophia Di Martino, UK, 2025, 8 mins)
All Yours begins with a bit of foreshadowing as the lovely Audrey (Loki's Sophia Di Martino), a lonely homemaker, peels and eats a hard-boiled egg. That night, she finds herself scratching at her neck. The next morning, the scratching continues until she pulls a thin layer of skin off her entire body.
It's nothing like the self-mutilation of Marina de Van's unsettling In My Skin; it’s more like a snake doing what snakes do. Audrey looks the same afterward, but now a disgusting pile of skin covers her bathroom floor. She tries to tell her best friend, except Mora (Lady's Sian Clifford) only wants to talk about herself, so Audrey heads to the kitchen and gets to work.
What starts out as a disturbing development culminates in a metaphor for liberation, enhanced by filmmaker Di Martino's charming performance.
FISHBRAIN (Max Vanderspuy, UK 2026, 22 mins)
Creature feature meets folk horror in Max Vanderspuy's Fishbrain.
Ori (Dune: Prophecy's Chloe Lea), a young woman in a fishing village, dropped out of school to look after her surly grandfather, Jeb (Red Riding's John Henshaw), after her grandmother died.
Something has been ailing the local fish population, but she swears she's serving him the good stuff. Once she's had enough of his shit, though, she turns to the bad stuff, but it has no effect on the old bastard. As their relationship continues to devolve, the toxic fish exert a more profound effect on her.
Vanderspuy shot the film in low light with frequent cutaways to slimy fish with squishy guts. After Tony, the seafood-centric film about Anthony Bourdain, I found myself craving fish and chips. After Fishbrain, I'd rather not look at a fish ever again, so I can't say it didn't make an impression.
THE LAST SNOW / La Dernière Neige (Rodolphe Bouquet-Populus, France, 2025, 19 mins)
A night-skiing enthusiast gets separated from his companions in writer/director Rodolphe Bouquet-Populus's survivalist thriller The Last Snow.
With extra time on his hands, Guillaume (Guillaume Pottier) decides to take a chair lift up the mountain to watch a ski ceremony. He rides with Isabelle (Compartment No. Six's Dinara Drukarova), a mysterious Russian woman who tells him about a deadly bear attack and explains how the resort handles times of light snow. She also expresses an intense fear of heights, so I'm not exactly sure what she's doing on a chairlift in the first place.
Then they catch glimpses of alarming sights and sounds below them suggesting that an unhinged creature is on the loose, so Guillaume does all he can to persuade Isabelle to jump off the chair to run away, but she's as stubborn as hell, and things don't end especially well.
The actors are convincingly scared shitless and Bouquet-Populus builds tension effectively, but The Last Snow doesn't really go anywhere, other than to confirm that the tallest of tall tales can turn out to be true. And that night skiing probably isn't the best idea.
MAN EATING PUSSY (Lee Lawson, Canada, 2026, 12 minutes)
Oh, those frisky Canadians!
When I received an email, shortly before the festival, about a film called "Man Eating Pussy," I thought there must have been a mistake. Was it spam? Was it pornography? No and no, as it turns out.
Actor and director Grace Glowicki, who first came to my attention in Booger and last graced Seattle cinemas with Dead Lover, plays a sex worker with a vagina for a face. In real life, even women would probably find that pretty horrible, but the terminally ill man who meets with her for a date seems more surprised than horrified, and the makeup effects are truly impressive.
I won't say more, other than that Glowicki and Julian Richings are pretty great and that the title has a different meaning than you might expect. This short would make for a particularly provocative pairing with Mitchell Lichtenstein's Teeth, a black comedy about a young woman (Jess Weixler) with teeth where one would not normally expect--or want--to find them.
THE SORROWS OF YOUNG CHARLOTTE (Shir Ariya, UK, 2026, 13 mins)
Charlotte (Liv Jekyll) and Werther (Fabian Bevan) are longtime friends. Until recently, she was in a relationship and he was single, but after four years, her boyfriend dumps her, and she's devastated. Werther steps in to offer support, but he's really hoping to consummate a longtime crush.
Charlie is lonely and vulnerable enough to give in, but when he tries to perform, he can't. Then, he spots some potency pills in her medicine cabinet, and they're able to finish what they started. Afterward she makes it clear that this was a one-off, but it's too late: he's confessed his feelings, and the pills worked too well, leading to a darkly comic conclusion.
Although a man could have made this film, I knew a woman did, because Werther believes that Charlie's boyfriend is the only thing standing in his way--rather than that she's just not into him (though she could have let him down a little easier). Werther isn't necessarily a bad guy, but he's dangerously naïve, except instead of turning the object of affection into a victim, like inJerzy Skolimowski'sDeep End or Curry Barker's Obsession, Shir Ariya, a Thai filmmaker based in the UK, ensures that the man gets his comeuppance. Though the makeup effects could have been more effective, The Sorrows of Young Charlotte offers a welcome corrective to the films in which a woman must pay for failing to live up to a man's expectations.
Above: a 52-second glimpse into Man Eating Pussy.
Land of Hope and Gory, an 89-min program, screens at LFF on Sun, Oct 18, 8pm at BFI Southbank, Screen NFT2. The screening is sold out, but tickets may be available at the door. Images from Film Affinity (All Yours poster), the IMDb (Fishbrain poster), the BIFFF (The Last Snow poster), and British Council UK Films Database (Liv Jekyll in The Sorrows of Young Charlotte).
"Fuck London."--a sentiment a father will come to regret
A baby is bound to be challenging for any new parents, except the little fellow in Hannah Bergholm's Nightborn, winner of the Cheval Noir--the top prize--at this year's Fantasia International Film Festival, isn't just different, but mysterious and inexplicable, almost like a creature from another planet.
In Bergholm's first feature, Hatching, a preteen gymnast with a tightly-wound mother cares for an egg that hatches into a strange and terrifying creature. She leaned on practical effects, like puppetry and animatronics, for her tactile take on suburban conformity and toxic parenting.
Right: Just a girl and her egg in 2022's Hatching
For her followup, again cowritten with Ilja Rautsi, she switches to English, for the most part, while exploring the mother-child bond from an entirely different angle. She also shifts from the suburbs to the Finnish countryside where newlyweds Jon (Harry Potter's Rupert Grint), a Brit, and Saga (Seidi Haarla) have arrived to start a family in her ancestral home.
The cottage may have been beautiful and sturdy in her late grandmother's day, but her mother (Pirkko Saisio), an academic, had no interest in it, and now the floorboards are literally rotting. She and Jon aren't discouraged, though. They'll fix it up and raise three kids, exactly as they had planned.
After exploring the house, they venture into the woods, where Jon notices that some of the trees have troll-like characteristics and seem to want to trip him up. He's a bit creeped out, but Saga finds it all very literally stimulating, and the next time Bergholm catches up with them, she's in labor.
Saga gives birth in a bloody spurt, after which the nurses spirit the baby away, and she doesn't understand why. Once she's had her rest, she meets the hairy, cranky, but otherwise healthy child. Bergholm doesn't show its face, so we have to take it on faith that it isn't monstrous. She and Jon proceed to name the little tyke Christian, which seems ironic, but Jon is a vicar's son.
After the birth, Saga's body starts to change in subtle and disturbing ways, and no matter what she does, Christian responds more positively to Jon. The same is true of her mother, sister, and in-laws, too, though not by much.
After several painful biting encounters while nursing, Saga comes to find that her offspring prefers blood to milk, but no one believes her. In fact, her nearest and dearest believe that she's the problem, especially her non-nurturing mother and resentful sister (Pamela Tola). Others find the aggressive fellow altogether off-putting, suggesting that this isn't a textbook case of post-partum depression or even psychosis, but whenever Saga tries to do non-mommy things, it cries out for her. (She thinks of Christian as more of an "it" than a "he.) She feels like she can't win, because she can't.
It's only when Saga gives the kid what he wants, that things change. It's just that Christian, whose name she spontaneously changes to Kuura (Finnish for "Frost") without consulting Jon, doesn't want normal things, driving a wedge between her and her normie husband as she finally bonds with the weird little being. Her mother and sister claim that she was once a weird little being, too, something Bergholm never explains, other than to suggest that Saga more closely resembles her grandmother.
Suffice to say, Saga's sister was the easy one, whereas Saga was also a difficult child.
There are elements of Rosemary's Baby to the scenario, not least when Jon segues from supportive to judgmental, but the baby is neither demonic nor vampiric. I'm not sure exactly how to define it other than as a troll-like manifestation of Saga's fears about motherhood as much as the creature in Hatching was a manifestation of Tinja's repressed anger.
Rupert Grint, who next appears in Ebenezer, is quite good, even if it seems as if he aged into a middle-aged man overnight, since I've seen little of his work since the Ron Weasley days, but that's on me, though he has signed on to play the adult Ron in Broadway's Harry Potter and the Cursed Child.
Seidi Haarla, however, who first impressed me in Juho Kuosmanen's terrific 2021 two-hander Compartment No. 6, goes for broke in a physically and emotionally demanding role. I couldn't say whether she drew from experience as the mother of three. Or whether Grint, the father of two, did the same.
If anything, Hannah Bergholm's film reminded me of Lynne Ramsay's Die My Darling in that Haarla, like Jennifer Lawrence's unhinged mother, ends up exposed in every way, snarling and crawling on the floor and doing everything possible to connect with her child. I was also reminded of Mary Bronstein's If I Had Legs I’d Kick You in that Kuura never stops crying and whining, and Bergholm waits until the very end to show his face in full.
While Hatching struck me as the more original proposition, Nightborn is well worth a look for anyone interested in Finnish cinema, folk horror, or spooky films about strange kids--and their freaked-out mothers--though pregnant people should think twice before subjecting themselves to Saga's...saga.
Nightborn, which is now on Shudder in the States, premieres at LIFF on Oct 9 at Vue West End and plays again on Oct 10 at Prince Charles Cinema and Oct 14 at BFI Southbank, though tickets only remain available for Oct 9. Images from ICF via Moviejawn (Seidi Haarla), CSFD.SK (Haarla and Rupert Grint), Eye for Film (Haarla and Grint), and FirstShowing.Net (Haarla).
CHRONOVISOR (Kevin Walker and Jack Auen, USA, 2026, 99 minutes)
Sailin' away on the crest of a wave / It's like magic / Oh, rollin' and ridin' and slippin' and slidin' / It's magic.--ELO, "Livin’ Thing" (1976)
Béatrice Courte (Anne Laure Sellier, a French professor of behavioral science), a Columbia University researcher and philosophy professor, sets out to solve the mystery of the Chronovisor, a machine that can reportedly record the past, in this text-intensive metaphysical mystery from Cosmic Salon, aka Maryland/NYC filmmaking duo Kevin Walker and Jack Auen.
At the New York Society Library (actually a library at Johns Hopkins), her home away from home, Béatrice pores over books and periodicals and listens to audio recordings and at her apartment, she watches videos. She's often the only one in the library late at night, illuminated by the green glow of a banker's lamp (Leo Zhang shot the film in warm, soft-edged 16mm and excerpts from Holst's The Planets provide the stratospheric score).
Left: Kevin Walker and
Jack Auen
In the course of her research, she finds that Father Pellegrino Ernetti, a Benedictine monk born in 1925, claims that he created the device with the aid of 12 physicists. If this was a documentary, we would assume he was a charlatan. It isn't, though the vast majority of the names, claims, and facts presented are real.
But that doesn't mean Ernetti was on the up and up. Béatrice finds, for instance, an explanation for his most startling photograph: a closeup on a crucified Christ wearing an expression that recalls Maria Falconetti in Dryer's The Passion of Joan of Arc. According to Ernetti, the released photo was a facsimile, but that doesn't explain what happened to the original.
Further, Ernetti never explained how The Chronovisor works before he went missing, so the mystery isn't just about its inner workings, but about what happened to the device and to its inventor. Since then, conspiracy theories have proliferated, accompanied by Elvis-like sightings. Considering that the monk would be 101 in 2026, it seems unlikely that he he's still alive.
Béatrice reaches out to Ernetti's relatives and associates in hopes that they can provide some insight. In the process, she unlocks a treasure trove of additional materials.
Sellier, who resembles German actress Nina Hoss, isn't really an actress, and she doesn't really act. Instead, she listens, watches, and reads. As she does, Walker and Auen illuminate relevant text passages, sometimes translating them from the original French or Italian, languages Béatrice speaks. They also gave the subtitles a slightly aged look, a nice touch exemplifying their holistic approach.
In its early stages, the directors depict Béatrice having drinks with colleagues and speaking at a lectern before an academic audience, but she seems most comfortable, possibly even happiest, alone in the dark swimming in words. For better or for worse, I found that relatable.
Then she travels to Italy and transitions from observer to participant.
Though Chronovisor is an experimental film, it's easy to figure out what's going on at any given time. In Italy, however, Walker and Auen create painterly images that prove hard to decipher. Rough, colored outlines appear on a black background. Sometimes they're splotchy and mottled. At other times, they look like red and blue 3D images. This section, which concludes the film, does and does not solve the mystery. In that sense, I was reminded of Ivan Zulueta's sole feature Arrebato, Olivier Assayas's Irma Vep, and Laura Citarella's Trenque Lauquen. In all three films, the protagonists lose themselves in the mysteries they're trying to solve.
For the most part, though, Walker and Auen's directorial debut, which follows several shorts, is its own beast.
The biggest question, for me, wasn't whether the device did what Ernetti said it did, but whether it was a good idea in the first place. After all, he came to believe it was dangerous, leading the Vatican to get involved, which is never a good thing, but could have been worse if governments got ahold of it.
It also occurred to me that since cameras didn't exist thousands of years ago, it was up to artists to tell us about their times, and maybe that's how it's meant to be, not least when artists have fewer practical reasons to do so now when they can just pick up a camera phone or, worse yet, turn to Claude or ChatGPT, and when it's harder than ever to make a living from art.
Chronovisor, however, is art. No doubt about it.
Stream Walker and Auen's 2021 short film, "Marblehead," here.
Chronovisor plays Seattle's Northwest Film Forum, through Tues, Oct 6. It premieres in London at LFF on Oct 9 at BFI Southbank and plays again on Oct 11 at ICA. Both screenings are sold out, though some tickets should be available at the door. Images from Grasshopper via InReview Online (film still), Filmmaker - Substack (Walker and Auen), Woodstock Film Festival (the face of Jesus, supposedly), and Reactor Mag (Anne Laure Sellier).
It's been years since I've attended the BFI London Film Festival, so this isn't my first, but it's hard to resist an anniversary, and this year, LFF turns 70.
By contrast, the Seattle International Film Festival, my hometown festival, turned 50 in 2024, the Toronto International Film Festival turned 50 in 2025, the New York Film Festival--which coincides with LFF--turned 60 in 2022, and the Cucalorus Film Festival, for which I've been serving on the narrative judging committee, turned 30 in 2024.
Compared to Cannes and Venice, LFF is relatively young, but of the festivals with which I'm most familiar, it's the oldest. If you haven't heard much about it, though, that's because it may have many high-profile films, but it doesn't have the highest-profile premieres. Instead, though it's a competitive festival--unlike NYFF--it's more about programming that culls from the best of the competitive festivals in a world-class city with ample opportunities to see actors and directors in person, whether at screenings, events, or as part of the Screen Talk series.
This year's jury presidents include Sam Pollard (MLK/FBI), Amir El-Masry (Giant), Sandhya Suri (Santosh), and Helen Simmons (100 Nights of Hero). The Official Competition includes judges Julie La Bassiere (DDA Global) and Mariano Llinás (the 808-minute La Flor), who will be at LFF with the 324-minute documentary Life of Jorge Luis Borges. Julia Loktev's 370-minute My Undesirable Friends: Part II - Exile will also be at LFF, though I doubt I'll have time for either. Jury award winners will be announced on Oct 18.
I don't arrive in London until Oct 8, so I won't be able to make it to the Oct 7 Talks with Sofia Coppola or Andrew Scott either, though I'm hoping to make it to Eleanor Coppola's documentary Making Marie Antoinette, which was completed by Sofia Coppola, and Simon Stone's Elsinore, the opening night film, in which Scott plays actor Ian Charleson, who gave his final performance in Richard Eyre's Hamlet before succumbing to complications from AIDS eight weeks later (I've been watching Netflix's Ripley to prepare).
Though LFF excludes the word "International," this year's festival includes 251 films from 88 countries, including 33 world premieres. Of those premieres, the most notable, from a PNW perspective, is Travis Knight's adaptation of writer/ musician Colin Meloy and illustrator Carson Ellis's 2011 fantasy novel, Wildwood, produced by Oregon animation studio Laika (Kelly Reichardt adapted stories from Colin's sister, Maile Meloy, into Certain Women).
This year's lineup also includes 109 female filmmakers or 43%, which is estimable, though 49% of SIFF 2026's filmmakers identified as female or nonbinary. I don't know if LFF counts female and nonbinary filmmakers in the same way, but I'm always happy to root for the home team when I can.
Though most of LFF's lineup includes films that haven't opened in the States, even if they've played other festivals, there are exceptions. If anything, I was surprised to find that Boots Riley's I Love Boosters hadn't opened in the UK. It opened SIFF in May, and I recommend it, unless you're allergic to bright colors, absurdist humor, or collective action. Riley came to Seattle with the film, but not with any of the cast members. Naomi Ackie, on the other hand, will be at LFF, though I don't know if she'll be at all three screenings. She's also doing a Screen Talk I hope to attend on Oct 10.
More: Lance Oppenheim's Primetime opened in the States on Sept 25; I wrote about it for The Stranger. (His Elizabeth Holmes documentary with Nathan Fielder, You Can See Everything, is also making the festival rounds, though it isn't playing LFF.) Hanna Bergholm's folk horror Nighborn, another new-to-the-UK title, opened in July and is now streaming on Shudder. I'll have more to say about Bergholm's second feature in a subsequent post.
There a few other films that fit this category, but there's something about seeing a film, any film, in a country other than your own that enhances or alters the experience, and I'm looking forward to seeing how that plays out.
LFF 2026 runs from Oct 7-18 at venues across London. Please see the festival site for more information. Poster images: the BFI and Kinoafisha
Coverage of the Seattle International Film Festival and year-round art house programming in the Pacific Northwest.
Kathy Fennessy is former president of Seattle Film Critics Society, a Northwest Film Forum board member, and a Tomatometer-approved critic. She writes or has written for Amazon, Minneapolis's City Pages, Resonance, Rock and Roll Globe, Seattle Sound, and The Stranger.